A Hole In The Head
by JetNoir
Summary: When Dr Lecter is relocated, the FBI dispatches a team to bring him in. But if one of the members of that team has an ulterior motive, perhaps the only outcome could be a hole in the head…
1. Part One

**Note:** As a strange sort of celebration, to mark my first anniversary as a fanfic writer (yay!), I'm debuting three new Hannibal fics today. This one catches up with Hannibal, after he leaves the U.S. following Lessons, another will follow Clarice, and the last will be the story of Lilia Derevko. This could be interesting…or _very_ confusing! Also…contains spoilers of Hannibal and Lessons. As always.

**A HOLE IN THE HEAD**

**a Hannibal fanfic by JetNoir**

**part one of two**

Sydney

"Give it up Doctor Lecter," the voice shouted, "there's nowhere to run. We have you surrounded!"

"Come now, Agent Slater. Do you honestly believe I would give up so easily? Or you Special Agent Irons? Have you forgotten the brief time we spent together? I saved your life. I could have killed you…and yet I didn't. Is this any way to repay me?"

"Dr Lecter," said Elias Irons, formerly of the Revenant Taskforce, "I know of what you did, and your part in saving Agent Starlings life…but you must face reality. You are a mass-murderer who has been a fugitive for over a decade. Surrender, and you'll get through this alive."

"One thing I must ask," said Lecter, "for I'm quite curious. However did you find me?"

"It's really was quite simple," said Agent Slater, who was slowly raising his pistol upwards, aiming at the small patch of Dr Lecter's head that was visible from the door he was hiding behind, "you made some very fundamental, basic, careless…and dare I say _stupid_ mistakes."

Calmly he pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded with a roar.

Lecter fell limp and lifeless towards the floor.

**48 hours earlier**

Washington D.C.

Office of the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation

Special Agent Clarice Starling fidgeted nervously, as she waited for Director Tunberry to look up. She wasn't normally like this, but after being finally released from the hospital, close to a month since her kidnapping at the hands of former colleague Dr Lilia Derevko. She was dead. Her friend. Her friend was dead. Yet had it always been this way?

How could she have been so blind? It almost seemed obvious, and in retrospect – with the clarity of hindsight – it was. But this was no time for regrets. Not now. Not yet.

"The Bureau would like you to take some leave," said Tunberry, slowly and methodically," paid of course. We can book you into a very nice hotel suite…say: Chicago?"

"With all due respect sir," said Starling, "I don't need leave. What I need is to get on with the task at hand. I need to be _doing_ something. Sir…I can't just leave now. We've been compromised, by a serial killer of all people! And how did Dr Lecter know all he did?"

"Clarice, I didn't want to be rude but…I'm not giving you any choice in the matter. You're distressed, it's understandable. I can't let you go on as you are. I'm going to put it simply, Special Agent Starling. If I see you, in the next week, I will fire you. Understand?"

"Sir!"

"Understand?"

"Yes sir," muttered Clarice, head drooping slightly, defeated. She turned and walked towards the door, which was unceremoniously thrust into her face by Special Agent Slater.

"Sorry," he muttered to Starling, breathlessly, then ran to Tunberry's desk, "we've found him."

"Found who," cried Clarice, "Lecter?"

"Yes Lecter," said Slater, but before he could say another word, Clarice twisted back into the office:

"Who are you sending? Where is he?"

"Agent Starling. Clarice," said Tunberry, "I'm not going, or rather Agent Slater isn't going to tell you, as you will be on the first plane there. What I will do, is hold you in reserve, in Chicago, and if we need you, I _swear_ I will fly you there myself. Understand!"

"Yes sir, thank-you sir."

"Dismissed, Agent Starling."

She left. When sure she was out of earshot, Slater continued.

"He's in Sydney. It's going to take us the better part of a day just to get there. I need authorisation."

"Granted," said Tunberry, "but I want him alive! No more dead bodies, alive. Who are you taking with you?"

"Special Agent Elias Irons, and a few grunts…sorry, Special Weapons and Tactics."

"Sensible. What about Matt Ito?"

"Too old. He could put the operation in jeopardy."

"Very well, you have a go. By the way…however did you find him?"

"We tracked his ticket."

Sydney

The sun was a lovely change as Dr Hannibal Lecter; excuse me, Matthew Reeves sat, sipping a light Shiraz, reading.

The recent events had put little strain on him, and for now, he was simply content to sit and relax.

For now, at least.

London

Headquarters (Northern Hemisphere)

It is known simply as The Organisation.

Started as a trust between powerful politicians throughout the world, but evolved into an order dedicated to the acquisition of wealth and power for its select membership, as well as its secondary purpose, the collection of intelligence – often hired out by civilian, corporate and military groups. It was unaffiliated to any world government, because it consisted of the most powerful of all the worlds' governments. The governments themselves just didn't know it.

Less than a month ago, Dr Hannibal Lecter murdered a leading member, and his associate, while they were searching, in a rogue operation, for the serial killer called Revenant, otherwise known as Dr Lilia Derevko.

The Organisation looks after it's own. Takes revenge for it's own.

"Was the information we provided you with helpful," said The Man.

"Yes," replied the other man, linked by a connection, halfway around the world, "he's in Sydney."

"Good," said The Man, "then I have your instructions. Dr Lecter is to die. He must be found dead. I don't care how you do it, just make sure that it is done."

PAN AM Flight #03048 

somewhere over the South Pacific Ocean – approaching Australia

"Yes," said Special Agent Slater, in his cellular phone, speaking in the locked toilet – as so not to be discovered, "yes…Dr Lecter will soon be dead."

**To Be Continued**

**

* * *

Note: Hope you enjoyed that, and as always, please review!**

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters, to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	2. Part Two

**Note:** The first part of this was written exactly one year ago today - talk about procrastination! Today, is my second anniversary as a fanfic writer, and in celebration, I have published the final chapters of this, Her Burning Heart, and DayNight. These stories are so closely linked, it seemed appropriate to do this. So now, the finale. Contains spoilers of Hannibal and Lessons; and scenes of a violent nature.

**A HOLE IN THE HEAD**

**a Hannibal fanfic by JetNoir**

**part two of two**

PAN AM Flight #03048

somewhere over the South Pacific Ocean – approaching Australia

"Yes," said Special Agent Slater, in his cellular phone, speaking in the locked toilet – as so not to be discovered, "yes…Dr Lecter will soon be dead."

After returning to his seat, Special Agent Slater turned to Elias Irons and sighed: "Why the hell is it, that when you're on a plane, time seems to slow down?" said Slater, "I mean, it's hardly due to your effervescent company…and I mean that sincerely Elias…but whenever you get on a plane…it's like some strange kind of limbo, where nothing is real, and _everything_ is nothing."

"Have you been drinking?" asked Elias, "Because that made no sense whatsoever."

"Yeah," murmured Slater, "I know what you mean. I haven't a clue what I'm talking about myself half the time. Just nervous I guess."

"What are you so nervous about?" asked Elias.

"Him," said Slater, "I'm nervous of Lecter."

--

Three hours later, the plane arrived safely, and Irons and Slater disembarked, meeting their pre-arranged escort with Australian Police. In the next five hours, the story of Lecter will come to an end.

But five hours remain…and in the right hands, that is often enough.

If anyone is qualified with the 'right hands', however, then I believe that Dr Hannibal Lecter is that person.

Sydney

FBI Motorcade approaching emergency headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in association with Sydney State Police

"Why are you scared of Lecter?" asked Irons.

"He eats people. Do you need another reason?"

"No, not really."

--

Sydney City Centre, four hours later

"I'll be heading to New York soon," said Dr Lecter, the pay-phone pressed to his ear, "but I'll have to use an indirect route. I can't risk being stopped."

"_Understood," _said the metallic voice, _"I eagerly await our reunion"_.

"As do I." He replaced the receiver a few seconds before a beep sounded, which would have indicated all was not well.

--

Through the many cables, and electric highways of Australia, the Police had put in place a tap on all pay-phones. Using state-of-the-art technology, a voice recording (ironically enough, that recorded by the late Dr Chilton) would be matched. If the first few seconds matched the voice, then it would be recorded. The Police had the warrant, so everything was legal, and any calls that didn't match were immediately disregarded - not so much out of concern for the privacy of it's citizens, but the deluge of calls could not be kept because of storage limitations.

Doctor Lecter's terrible mistake was too use a public payphone. If he had simply bought a mobile phone, then what is to follow could all have been avoided.

--

FBI / Sydney State Police Taskforce Headquarters

"We have him! Sydney City Centre, pay-phone, ten minutes away."

"That's efficient," said Irons, "and irritating. They found him in a matter of hours what we couldn't in a matter of years."

"Shut up, and start running," said Slater, grabbing his map, and turning to the doors.

Outside, a helicopter's blades were warming up, and the two FBI Agents ducked to avoid the downdraft, and climbed aboard. Sirens were switched on, as police cars slid out of the garages, in pursuit."

A satellite uplink has been switched on, and live pictures of the city centre were being uploaded to every officer. It was empty, except for one man…

"That must be him," said Irons, and then turning to the Commander beside him, "we have to surround him. Go in hard and fast. You have tranquilisers?"

"All officers are so armed."

"Good."

"We're going to arrive before everyone else," said the Commander, "so we have to contain him before backup arrives."

"Perfect," smiled Slater.

--

City Centre

Dr Hannibal Lecter turned, and saw the helicopter (with it's police insignia) the second he heard it. It was so low, he could make out figures in the cockpit, and now, he knew they were coming for him. How?

Putting the rest of his thoughts to the back of his mind, he turned and ran to his nearby parked rental car.

"DOCTOR LECTER!" came a mechanically filtered voice, booming through a megaphone, "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND, SLOWLY! COMPLY IMMEDIATELY."

"Comply immediately?" snarled Lecter, "Is that even grammatical?"

He slid into his car, and started the engine; pulling away immediately.

"Damn," said Slater, in the Helicopter: then, addressing the sniper, "try and take the tyres out."

The sniper bent to his scope and tried to aim, but Lecter, seeing the movement in his mirror, swerved violently.

"We're coming to the outskirts," said the Commander, "and our suburbs are densely populated."

"He's pulling in!" cried the pilot, "There's a farm."

"Put us down, on top of him," said the Commander.

Down on the ground, Lecter slid out of the car, and from the glove compartment, drew a pistol, then moved towards a nearby group of densely packed trees.

Keeping most of his body hidden, and just peering out, he lined the gun at the rapidly descending 'copter.

Let me say one thing first, Dr Lecter intensely disliked guns. A gun has no finesse, and while admittedly takes a degree of skill, he far preferred his harpy. However, with no cover, and a sniper against him, the long distance of the pistol would be helpful. A knife might be good against a rifle if you were right next to the shooter, but from a distance, it was useless.

And even though he disliked guns, Dr Lecter was nothing less than an expert with their use. His life might depend on them.

With two bullets, the sniper fell backwards and his gun fell to the ground. The Commander, Slater and Irons rolled out, and crouching, ran towards the main farm building. Lecter opened fire, and the Commander fell to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds.

The gun clicked empty, and Lecter dropped it to the floor. He had no more rounds, and he daren't try to bluff. That would just waste time, and with half the Australian Police on his tail, he had to get away. Turning frantically, his eyes scouring the landscape, he spotted a barn, a little way away. Keeping his distance from the location of the two FBI Agents.

"There he is!" yelled Slater, spotting movement. Both he and Irons raced to flank Lecter, their guns pointed at the floor.

Both parties ran, but before the Agents could catch him, Lecter managed to get behind the barn door. Not knowing that he had ditched his pistol, both Agents had no choice but to find cover.

Slater was scared, but not as much as Irons. He may have been calm earlier, but his previous encounter with Lecter made him much warier than he might have been. But that is in the past, and this is now.

--

Barn; outskirts of Sydney

The forty-eight hours are over.

Irons and Slater are standing behind cover, Irons an outbuilding, and Slater, an overturned cart. Lecter was behind the barn door.

"Give it up Doctor Lecter," Agent Slater yelled, "there's nowhere to run. We have you surrounded!"

"Come now, Agent Slater. Do you honestly believe I would give up so easily? Or you Special Agent Irons? Have you forgotten the brief time we spent together? I saved your life. I could have killed you…and yet I didn't. Is this any way to repay me?" Lecter's voice was mocking, with an edge.

"Dr Lecter," said Elias, his voice quiet and dark, "I know of what you did, and your part in saving Agent Starlings life…but you must face reality. You are a mass-murderer who has been a fugitive for over a decade. Surrender, and you'll get through this alive."

"One thing I must ask," said Lecter, "for I'm quite curious. However did you find me?"

"It's really was quite simple," said Agent Slater, who was slowly raising his pistol upwards, aiming at the small patch of Dr Lecter's head that was visible from the door he was hiding behind, "you made some very fundamental, basic, careless…and dare I say _stupid_ mistakes."

Calmly he pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded with a roar.

Lecter fell limp and lifeless towards the floor.

Irons turned to Slater, gun raised: "What the hell are you doing? Mandate states we take Lecter alive! You just shot him with no provocation!"

"You cannot understand!" said Slater, "And you will back me up! He moved to attack us! I was ordered to take Lecter out, and I followed those orders to the letter!"

"The FBI didn't order that! They wouldn't!"

"The FBI?" spat Slater, "I follow a route beyond them!" A pause then: "Irons, watch out!"

Irons gasped, and looked down to see a sliver of metal poking out of his chest. Blood spurted out, his penetrated heart pumping it out indiscriminately. Irons choked, hot, vicious, metallic blood spilling from his mouth. The pain was excruciating, but it didn't last long.

"I'm sorry," whispered Lecter, as he twisted to avoid the falling body, swiftly sliding the blade out, "you didn't deserve that."

Reaching his arm back, he threw the blade, which at this close range was completely accurate, until the point hit Slater's head, penetrating his skull, and destroying his brain.

The only mercy was that Slater never knew what hit him.

--

The next morning

Backup arrived half an hour after Slater and Irons was murdered. The only sign that anything was different on Slater's inert body, was just that: it was utterly still. Sydney Police wasted no time informing the American Government, and they the families of the deceased. Clarice Starling was low on their list though, and Director Tunberry didn't keep to his promise. She was told over a week later. Of course, she had problems of her own.

The bodies were flown back to the U.S. and two more reasons to find Dr Lecter were put on the ever-growing list.

As to the good Doctor himself, he regretted his journey, and decided to return to America, once and for all. Making his way through Asia, and Europe, he eventually arrived safely, under yet another false name.

This little holiday had not worked out well for him, but he only had himself to blame. What was to come - he was determined - would not have any problems.

At all.

--

London

Headquarters (Northern Hemisphere)

Understandably, The Man was furious.

News of his infiltrated agents demise filtered slowly back to him, and their most highly placed agent in the FBI was gone.

"Why wasn't I told sooner?" he roared.

"We were just informed," said his second, "and sadly, we must mourn Slater's loss later. We have to keep moving, our plan has been in place for far to long."

"Very well. Move to the secondary target. We will take a leaf from Mason Verger's twisted book. We need bait…"

**fini**

**Note:** One thing that's quite noticeable, only Clarice Starling, and Matt Ito are now left from my original story 'Lessons'. What is the bait? Who was Lecter talking to? And what are his plans for America? Yes, you guessed it, we're merging! After a year of writing, this and DayNight are finally finished, with Her Burning Heart well on the way. It's been very hard, but I've loved it. So, please watch out for the forthcoming story, which should be along in a little while. And last, but not least, I hoped you enjoyed it, and please review.

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (that includes links) without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


End file.
